


it's all you ever talk about

by windupbirdgirl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Introspection, M/M, Relationship Study, awkward teenagers figuring stuff out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9322433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windupbirdgirl/pseuds/windupbirdgirl
Summary: He shivered, and maybe he did it audibly, because then there was a jacket over his shoulders and a faint look of embarrassment scrawled over Bokuto’s features.“What’s this for?”“You were shivering.”“I’m not your girlfriend, Bokuto-san.”(both of them are bad at figuring out the other.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> work title taken from "It's all you ever talk about", Whethan vs Oliver Tree (which i listened to the whole time i was editing this so)

 

Akaashi was good at solving problems, solving puzzles. Perhaps this was one of the reasons being the setter suited him; his mind was just as quick as his reflexes. Not to mention the satisfaction of a perfect toss, euphoria rushing through his body as the ball slammed into the court, the clumsy curve of his lips as he tried not to let contentment paint his face.

He’d always been good at figuring out people, too – the difference between dry smiles and the wide, twisting ones that worked their way into shining eyes. The meanings of soft sighs in hazy afternoons, and the sharp intakes of breath that tinge the air with unease.

(Yes, Akaashi was excellent at analysing people; he just didn’t know what to do after that.)

Throughout his life, Akaashi had been great at solving problems, solving puzzles, solving people.

(So it was inevitable from the start that he would encounter his own enigma.)

Bokuto Koutarou was an impossible being, with his bright eyes and bright smile, and Akaashi found himself, for the first time, confronted with a person he could not explain.

* * *

 

It was a mild day, and the air was clear and dry as Akaashi found himself cornered by a duo of daunting third-years outside the Fukurodani gym. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and his voice was level as he answered their questions.

“Akaashi Keiji...You want the position of setter, is that right?” The taller of the two asked, yawning.

“Yes,” He replied shortly, shoving his hands even deeper into the material of his coat, tapping out a tune with his index finger and thumb.

The guy eyed him dismissively, scratching the back of his neck, “Well, our setter is graduating next year-“

A blond boy next to him looked up from his phone to wave in Akaashi’s direction.

“- So after that, the position would be yours. I’m Arai, the captain,” He jerked his head towards blond boy, “and this is Kubo, the official setter at Fukurodani.”

Akaashi nodded again and re-introduced himself, crossing and un-crossing his fingers within his pocket.

Arai grinned at him, “Not the talkative type, huh? We could use a few more like you in the team, to be honest.” He turned towards the gym and raised his voice; calling to someone Akaashi couldn’t see. “Bokuto! You’re on newbie duty!”

Akaashi blinked and his fingers froze. His throat went dry, and he pleaded to Arai with all his mental might that no, he was fine, _he didn’t need to be shown the ropes by an annoying stranger, please_ -

And then the annoying stranger himself jogged down the steps, and Akaashi’s internal pleading was cut short, his mind stuttering to a halt as it was overwhelmed with the bizarre sight in front of him.

Hooked eyebrows were raised in a mixture of curiosity and delight above the boy’s eyes, which burned a soft yellow. An enthusiastic grin (that was somehow both overbearing and belonging at the same time) was aimed at Akaashi, whose own mouth had opened slightly in surprise as his eyes found the boy’s _hair._

Spikes of white and black had been gelled clumsily into two larger spikes, giving the appearance of odd horns atop the boy’s head. Akaashi dazedly recalled times from when he was younger, and he would take bubble baths while his parents would style his sudsy hair into various abnormal styles for his amusement.

“So you’re the new guy?” The stranger asks, still grinning widely, and Akaashi blinks stupidly before reviving himself.

“I am. I mean, yes, “, and Akaashi feels himself flush, “- Yeah, I just joined today.” He finishes lamely, his cheeks burning. He feels his eyes begin to water and he blinks, willing his eyes, don’t _cry, don’t cry, don’t cry-_

“Welcome to the team! You’re gonna be just great, I can tell, what’s your name? Oh, I’m Bokuto Koutarou, and I’m in second year – but no need to worry! You can just call me Bokuto.”

(There was childish excitement scrawled all over him as he said this, and Akaashi felt his nervousness dissipate again into bewilderment at this boy, Bokuto, who wasn’t staring at Akaashi with that uncomfortable, burdened expression.)

“I’m Akaashi Keiji,” he said quickly, followed by an “It’s nice to meet you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto laughed, a genuine laugh, and his grin was almost too wide for his face.

“Come on then. I’ll introduce you to your new team members!” Akaashi started slightly, and Bokuto must have noticed, because a few seconds later he added quietly, “You don’t have to worry; they’re all going to like you, Akaashi!”

Akaashi nodded, and followed Bokuto into the gym.

(His hands stayed out of his pockets for the rest of the practice)

* * *

 

As the soft April days began to blister under the summer sun, Akaashi found himself spending more and more time in the gym. From hazy mornings to cooler evenings, daily practice was rigorous and consuming, but Akaashi didn’t really mind. He’d never particularly enjoyed volleyball in middle school; it was more for something to do, but high school had brought with it a change of pace and fresh excitement that had never been present in junior high.

Sunlight filtered through the windows, the smell of sweat and exhaustion heavy in the air. Akaashi’s fingers fumbled over his laces as the captain announced it was time to clean up.

He’d just begun the hunt for stray volleyballs when he felt a hand on his back.

“Hey, hey, Akaashi.” Bokuto grinned, expression unreadable and sweat sticking loose hairs to his forehead. “How about staying after practice to set for me?”

“Can’t you ask Kubo-senpai, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi straightened up, volleyball in hand. “I thought he always stayed after practice anyway—”

Bokuto tutted, “That’s beside the point, Akaashi! It’ll do you good to practice with a spiker one-on-one.” He glanced towards the door, where the third years were already leaving. “And Kubo has to leave early tonight anyway,” Bokuto added.

(Akaashi didn’t know why, but his heart sank a little at that.)

“Okay, but only for ten minutes, Bokuto-san.”

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later, Akaashi was wiping sweat from his brow as he sat on the steps outside the gym, grateful for the slight breeze moving though his hair. “ _Bokuto-san’s spiking practices are insatiable as always”_ , Akaashi thought, as he lay back against the concrete. The aggressive heat from earlier had turned into a warm breeze, and it was so quiet and peaceful that Akaashi felt his eyes close, lulled into sleepiness.

He barely registers footsteps approaching and his name being called until he felt the cold press of a can against his cheek, his eyes flying open as he sat up.

“You were really asleep?” Bokuto’s eyes were wide as he withdrew his hand slowly, face only inches away from Akaashi, who jolted backwards again. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He was leaning over Akaashi in a way that was slightly too personal and, as if reading his mind, Bokuto drew back suddenly, as if startled by the situation.

“I know.” Akaashi’s voice was nonchalant as he faced Bokuto, noticing the two cans clutched in Bokuto’s hand as he did so.

Bokuto tore his eyes from Akaashi’s face and followed his gaze to the cans.

“Oh.” Bokuto sounded confused. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure which one was your favourite, so I bought black coffee and strawberry milk.” He held out the two cans, a grin on his face that Akaashi couldn’t quite decipher.

“Coffee, please.” He fumbled in his bag for some change, but Bokuto waved it off, saying it was his treat.

They sat in an unusual silence, surrounded only by the sound of slurping drinks and the humming of the cicadas. After they finished, they threw their empty cans in the bin (“I only missed because of the heat, Akaashi!”) and trudged out of the school gates just as dusk began to cast a rosy shadow over Tokyo.

“Hey, Akaashi?” Bokuto yawned.

“Hmm?”

“You’re not as shy as when you first arrived, you know.” Bokuto sounded unusually contemplative, and it threw Akaashi off momentarily.

Akaashi pulled his jacket tighter around him, “I guess I just settled in,” he gave by way of an answer, wondering why Bokuto decided to mention something so personal. Or indeed, how he'd remembered at all.

Bokuto only hummed in response, but Akaashi can guess at what he’s thinking - his response is hangs in the air, practically tangible.

_(“I’m sort of glad we happened to be on the same team.”)_

* * *

 

“I can’t do this anymore.” Bokuto throws his pen down dramatically and lets his head fall against the table. “I have lost the will for calculus, Akaashi.”

Akaashi didn’t look up from his worksheet. “You have a terrible study ethic, Bokuto-san.”  He frowned over a particularly difficult question before scratching down a solution.

Bokuto grumbled to himself from the other side of the table, and Akaashi sighed, setting his pen down and turning towards Bokuto with a flat expression.

“If you don’t want to study, then why are you still here?” Akaashi gestured at the room. It had been Bokuto’s ingenious in the first place; volleyball practice and then studying at Akaashi’s place had seemed like a good idea in theory _, “but Akaashi, how am I supposed to concentrate in this heat?”_

Bokuto tilted his face upwards, and suddenly Akaashi was being examined by careful eyes. A grin spread its way over Bokuto’s features, and he abruptly sat up, propping his head in his hands.  Akaashi leant back in his chair.

“You wanna go somewhere cool?”

“It’s nearly midnight.”

Bokuto waved his hand dismissively. “You don’t understand the concept of rebellion, Akaashi.” There was an atmosphere about him that was new and unexpected, and Akaashi felt curiosity win him over once again.

“Where do you want to go at this hour?” Akaashi asked sceptically, as he yawned and stretched, his hands barely above his head before Bokuto grabbed them and pulled him up. Akaashi had no time to process the warmth around him before Bokuto was leading him out the door, grinning and tugging for Akaashi to follow.

“Bokuto-san, what—” He started, as they hurried down the stairs, Bokuto running and Akaashi stumbling through the darkness surrounding them.

The world seemed hushed and secretive as they left the house, the soft blanket of stars above them cushioning the blare of cars and city life into a whisper of crickets and two sets of footsteps. Streetlamps casted a yellowish glow over the street, which was quiet save for the footsteps and Akaashi’s half-hearted protests.

They were nearly three blocks away before Bokuto started to slow his pace, impatience losing to exertion, and he let go of Akaashi’s hand to wipe sweaty palms over his t-shirt.

(Akaashi would have done the same, but at the present moment he was far too occupied with how Bokuto was illuminated in the artificial light, and the feeling of something constricting within him.)

“-we’re nearly there...I mean, it’s not like it’s far, it’s just the school after all.” Bokuto finished, smiling enthusiastically, and Akaashi’s affection vanished just like that.

He stopped walking. Bokuto turned to face him, questioning.

“You’re taking me to the school. In the middle of the night.” Akaashi stated, and he was so incredulous he couldn’t find it in him to be irritated.

Bokuto blinked at him. “Well yeah, that’s what I just said, Akaashi-“

Akaashi sighed heavily, before resuming his pace, leaving Bokuto to jog after him.

“I knew you’d come anyway.” Bokuto said, still smiling, but it was more of a self-satisfied smile, Akaashi considered.

It was getting colder; there wasn’t much in the way of cloud cover, and Akaashi felt a sharp coolness in the air that definitely hadn’t been there before. He shivered, and maybe he did it audibly, because then there was a jacket over his shoulders and a faint look of embarrassment scrawled over Bokuto’s features.

“What’s this for?”

“You were shivering.”

“I’m not your girlfriend, Bokuto-san.”

“I know that! But I was the one who didn’t stop to let you grab a jacket.”

Akaashi shrugged the coat on properly and it felt like relief on his skin.  It was slightly too big for him, and the sleeves hung low on his wrists but it was warm and worn with use as Akaashi breathed in a strangely familiar scent.

The school was eerie at night – the building cast shadows over their conversation, which seemed too loud for the hush of the early hours of the morning. Trainers crunched on gravel, and with every sigh of the wind, Akaashi whipped around, heart racing as he scanned for signs of company.

“Jittery?” Bokuto commented, and laughed when Akaashi retorted. He stopped as they passed the gym, eyes widening as his breath caught, his eyes fixated on something Akaashi couldn’t see.

“What is it?” Akaashi squinted into the night.

Bokuto shifted behind him, and then there were two hands pressed into his curls, tilting his head towards a tree in the courtyard, illuminated faintly in pale moonlight. Bokuto raised an arm to point at the higher branches, whispering “ _look, at the top,”_ as Akaashi’s eyes widened in comprehension.

It was the unmistakable silhouette of an owl pressed sharply into the confines of the night sky; graceful and deadly even from a distance. Akaashi inhaled slowly, engrossed by the unusual sight.

“I’ve seen her here before.” Bokuto admits, voice inches from Akaashi’s ear, “Amazing, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.”

(Akaashi’s reply was slightly shaky, and he tried to pretend it was because of the awe of the situation but he knew it probably had more to do with the way Bokuto was practically pressed into his shoulder, one hand still in Akaashi’s messy curls.)

There was an absence of warmth as Bokuto leant back to scan their surroundings, frowning, “I’m sure there were more last time, too.”

Akaashi smiled, his lips curving with tiredness and the novelty of a midnight escapade into the school to see an owl.

“I’m sure we can see them another time.”

Bokuto yawned widely, stretching his arms towards the sky.

“We should probably go home now, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto turned back to face him, worry in his eyes.

“Did you not-“

“No, I loved seeing her. Thank you for showing me.”

Bokuto visibly relaxed, and they trudged back past the gym, their energy seeping out of them as the moon continued to shine over the stars.

They parted at the fork in the road, Bokuto saying goodbye and promising to come to pick his books up first thing the next morning, waving until he disappeared round the corner.

It wasn’t until Akaashi collapsed into bed, eyes fluttering closed with fatigue, that he realised he was still wearing Bokuto’s jacket.

* * *

 

When his mother returned from a long night shift at the hospital the next morning, she worried over the dark circles under his eyes.

“I was disturbed by an owl, so I didn’t manage to fall asleep until around two, Mum.”

Anxiety was replaced by wonder as she clasped her hands together, almost comically: “That’s right! There’ve been sighting of owls around the neighbourhood lately, Keiji!”

“Really?” He concentrated on chewing his rolled omelette.

“I wonder if I could see one too.” She mused, stirring her coffee absent-mindedly.

(Akaashi never bothered to tell her the whole story.)

* * *

 

It was at the summer training camp that Akaashi met Kuroo Tetsurou for the first time. Or rather, inhaled in shock as an arm was flung round him from behind.

“So this is your new setter, Bokuto!” His voice was loud, and Akaashi’s face was a mask of irritation as he pushed the offender’s arm away.  He glared at Bokuto.

“Isn’t he great?” Bokuto laughed, but stopped apologetically when he saw the look on Akaashi’s face. “Yeah, this is Akaashi.”

The tall guy swung back and hooked his arm around Bokuto’s shoulder instead. “I’m Kuroo. Nice to meet you, Akaashi!” He jostled Bokuto’s shoulder, a wide grin on his face. “Glad to see you seem like you’re keeping this guy in check.”

Bokuto was amused as he aimed a punch at Kuroo’s shoulder. The latter dodged and smirked, meeting Bokuto’s closed fist with his own in a greeting.

Akaashi cleared his throat, neutral tone and voice as he addressed Bokuto.

“Excuse us, but our team is going to go and warm up now, Kuroo-san.” He turned and walked away, frowning as his mind reeled with annoyance. He heard Bokuto approaching but didn’t slow his pace.

There was a light tap at his shoulder, and suddenly Bokuto was there, close and imposing.

“He doesn’t mean any harm.” Bokuto chewed his lip as they reached the room they were staying in. “It’s just how he greets people, I think.”

Akaashi dropped his bag on the floor and straightened up. “It isn’t a problem, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto grinned, and began to change into his uniform. Akaashi turned away before pulling his own shirt over his head, rummaging in his bag for his practice clothes.

The evening was warm and Akaashi exhaled slowly, focusing on the chatter and laughter coming from the gym, trying to ignore the sound of zippers and material from behind him. The classroom was large and airy, curtains floating like sighs in the slight breeze from outside. Akaashi unfolded his futon neatly as Bokuto finished organising himself.

“’Kaashi, did you ask Komi about the new spiking tactic?” Bokuto mumbled, as he flopped down onto his own futon (which was considerably messier than Akaashi’s.) and closed his eyes

Akaashi sat down next to him and frowned. “What new spike?” He asked, prodding Bokuto’s prone form.

“The special one.” Bokuto’s eyes were still closed as he slurred his reply.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep. We need to meet up with the team in the gym.” Akaashi allowed a small smile to grace his features. Bokuto rarely felt tired in the same sense as a normal human: his exhaustion came in (predictably) unpredictable bouts, and Akaashi was never quite prepared for them when they came.

Bokuto’s hair deflated with him, it seems, as the strands of black and white fell over his eyes. Akaashi leaned in slightly, noting for the first time a small scar between Bokuto’s temple and hairline. Almost unconsciously, he reached out a slender hand and brushed away a soft wisp of white hair in order to see the mark better.

Then Bokuto’s eyes flew open, and Akaashi’s careful fingers were met with a golden gaze.

He withdrew his hand quickly, feeling heat creep its way up his neck.

“You have a scar on your temple.” Akaashi blurted. It was more of a statement than a question.

Bokuto scratched his neck, an off-pink colour staining his cheeks. “Oh, that thing. I fell off my bike when I was seven.”

“I see.” Akaashi linked his fingers together, twisting them slightly. Bokuto noticed.

“You’re doing the nervous thing again, Akaashi.” Bokuto sounded reproachful.

Akaashi looked down, surprise on his face as he released his hands, and opted for cracking his knuckles instead.

“That’s just a bad habit, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi stood up, stretching slightly. “Shall we get going? They’ll be wondering where we’ve gone.” He started leaving.

Bokuto scrambled to his feet, nearly tangling himself in the futon. He hurried to catch up with Akaashi, protesting. “It is not! You only do it when you’re worrying about something.”

“That isn’t true.” Akaashi straightened his t-shirt as they walked back down the corridor, their squeaking footsteps soon mixing with the babble of the training camp.

“It is! I’ve noticed!”

“But what would I have to be worried about right now?” He looked Bokuto in the eye, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Losing a match, maybe?” Bokuto didn’t return his gaze. Akaashi sighed.

It was well into the evening now, the atmosphere bristling with the excitement of tomorrow’s games. Teams were already flitting about in coloured uniforms, laughing and yelling that echoed off the walls and floors. Akaashi breathed in, allowing the anticipation to fill his mind as well, with the thoughts of the courts and the victories and Bokuto. Allowed it only for a second, however, before his mind snapped back to the present.

“Hurry up. We’re never going to make it on time at this rate.”

Bokuto grumbled until they reached the gym.

* * *

 

Their first loss of the year was at the inter-high; Akaashi hadn’t realised how quickly exhilaration could be replaced by stunned, empty feelings until water battered his scalp as he ducked his head under the water fountain. He was overcome with the sensation of _almosts_ and _what-ifs_ , his head low and his heart even lower as they left the stadium – his hands were twisting against the strap of his bag, overly conscious of the stares and mutters whispered behind their backs.

_(Fukurodani, huh? It’s a shame...they were strong candidates, but they really fell apart at the end, right?)_

The whole team was in an uncharacteristic silence; apart from Bokuto, who was being uncharacteristically noisy.

His smiles were too big and his laughs were too loud and watching him made Akaashi want to tell him to _shut up, be quiet, break down, do whatever it is you feel like doing because we all know you’ve worked harder for this than anybody else._

The drive home was subdued, and Akaashi’s head was jostled as he leant against the cool glass but he welcomed the distraction from Bokuto’s ridiculous hair bobbing up and down as he spoke to Konoha about how they’d get their next win.

Akaashi was restless, and Bokuto’s blind optimism was so false and felt so bitter that Akaashi could nearly taste the approaching dejection.

The words crept around the hollow of his mind until they reached Bokuto’s house.

“See you tomorrow, then.” Bokuto turned towards the door, but Akaashi grabbed the corner of his sleeve. They stood, frozen in the orange light, and Akaashi heard Bokuto’s breath catch.

“Akaashi?” He questioned, tilting his head to one side, a grin hastily applied on his mouth. “Don’t you want to get back?”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi began carefully, “It’s okay to be upset. You don’t need to…I don’t know, always pretend that it doesn’t bother you.”

Bokuto’s smile changed, but didn’t fade. He looked at Akaashi, eyes soft and concerned, and Akaashi suddenly felt very small. He looked at his feet, thinking that surely he’d gone too far this time-

“Do you want to come in for a bit? I think we’ve got some cake.”

Akaashi blinked.

“…Only for a bit, then.”

* * *

 

Akaashi pushed the last few crumbs around on his plate, the last of the sun’s rays glinting dully on his fork: Bokuto was lying on the floor opposite him, scrolling through his phone. Dust floated through corridors in air, settling in the soft carpet beneath them and Akaashi asked himself why he was still here, waiting.

Then Bokuto rolled over to face him, and Akaashi jumped.

“What?” He asks defensively, acutely aware of the way Bokuto was examining the way he flinched, radiating nerves throughout the room.

“I wasn’t trying to…put up a front, or anything.” Bokuto stared at the ceiling. “I was just trying to reassure the team. And it’s not like the end of the world to me.” He pauses, then adds “You and I still have next year, after all.”

Akaashi shuffled across to Bokuto and lay down beside him. The carpet was itchy against his neck, and he could see the stacks of sports magazines ordered neatly underneath Bokuto’s desk. He smiled, a little.

“’There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love.’” Akaashi recites, toying with his zip.

Bokuto props himself up on one arm and looks at Akaashi with an expression of incredulity.

“Do you do this a lot?” He sounds amazed.

“Do what?”

“Pull out some fancy quote when the situation is right.”

“Well,” Akaashi furrows his eyebrows, looking at Bokuto defensively. “It’s better than bringing out owl puns when the situation is definitely _wrong_.”

Bokuto seems to be lost for words. A rare and treasured occasion, Akaashi supposes. But he doesn’t have time to point this out to himself or Bokuto, as the latter leans down, and then there’s a pair of lips against his own.

Something detonates in Akaashi’s mind.

They pull apart, their lips making an embarrassing ‘pop,’ breaking the precious silence.

“Martin Luther King.” Bokuto’s face is tomato-red. He’s staring at Akaashi with reverence.

“What?” Akaashi is dazed.

“The quote.”

“Oh.” He thinks for a moment. “Martin Luther King Junior.” He corrects.

“Thanks.”

Akaashi leans forward again, maybe a bit too desperately, but he can’t bring himself to care. Apparently neither can Bokuto, who places a hand on his cheek cautiously, licking his bottom lip nervously before they meet again.

“I like you.” Bokuto tells him, in between kisses.

Akaashi considers this, pressing his forehead against Bokuto’s shoulder. “I like you too.” He realises it’s true as he says it, full of wonder.

* * *

 

Nothing really changes after they start going out. Bokuto’s still exasperating, and Akaashi is still stubbornly apathetic whenever the subject matter isn’t volleyball or food.

Somehow though, it’s different. They hold hands now, walking home from school. They get strange, sometimes offended looks from strangers, but Bokuto isn’t bothered by it so neither is Akaashi. They exist at their own pace, and it’s nice, Akaashi thinks, waving from his classroom while Bokuto and the rest of the second years have P.E.

The world is theirs for the keeping.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this last year, that isn't a joke. it was pretty bad, so i tweaked some parts and figured i might as well post it. 
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
